The appeared somewhat darker and Shawn felt the room spin as soon as he uttered the words. It felt less like a supernatural feeling and more like feeling that someone got when the spent a long time spinning in circles on the playground or the rush of being discovered during a game of hide and seek.

When Shawn finally gained his bearings, he looked up at the mirror and saw that he was sitting on Mr. Clayton's lap. Shawn looked and felt like a puppet. His arms were wooden and his hands and fingers creaked slightly as he flexed them. Shawn's mouth looked like a square box, lines on each side of his face around the corner of the mouth drawing down near the chin. His eyes had a wide-eyed look to them. A permanent, dummy look.




"Look at that mouth!" Mr. Clayton said, bouncing his knee a bit so that Shawn had to fight to keep his balance. Mr. Clayton had retained his appearance as a Puppet, the same size and material. He sat on the chair in front of the mirror, his hand only resting on Shawn's back instead of inside Shawn's puppet cavity. Shawn, on the other hand, looked like a much more miniature Puppet. A Puppet's puppet.

"A Dummy's dummy!" Mr. Clayton advised.

"Look at you. You're a trifle. Just like me. Seriously, though. You've got quite the case of Mannequin mouth!"

While he'd been expecting something unusual to happen, Shawn had previously had nightmares about exactly this sort of thing, and he felt fear and panic rising in his stomach. Fortunately, his painted-on expression made it so he didn't show that as he spent a few minutes trying to move his arms and legs, and getting a sense of his strange puppet-form. When he noticed Mr. Clayton had his hand on his back, he actually tried to reach behind and feel his back, whether or not he did have a puppet cavity back there.

It was only after that that he remembered that Mr. Clayton had spoken, and probably expected a reply. He was a little worried about what his voice would sound like, and how his mouth would move when he did, but he pushed through anyway. "This feels weird...I guess we're both dummies?"

Shawn's voice came out thin and high, not unlike a balloon that was releasing some helium. His fingers could feel the felt, velvet cloth that covered the gaping cavity of his interior.

Nothing was inside that cavity.

But somehow, even though Shawn's puppet hands and fingers could feel around back there, he didn't really have to feel it. I knew it. It was just like Mr. Clayton said: "I'm just a trifle. A nothing." There was nothing inside. Nothing at all.




"Yersirrrreeeeeeeee Bob!" Mr. Clayton answered, slapping his free hand on the knee that Shawn wasn't sitting on as if he was some kind of hill-billy.

"I don't know what comes next Shawn. I've given myself long ago to Greater Ventriloquism. I guess we'll both have to take a leap of faith. A trip down, down, down and then up, up, up!!!"

Shawn was horrified, but his face stayed in its wide-eyed dummy rictus. That was probably the only thing keeping him from going completely over the edge, not being able to see how scared he was in the mirror. So with some effort, he managed to return to the way he usually dealt with Mr. Clayton’s ‘surprises’; act like it was part of a show and just play along. “Well, at least now I don’t need to put my hand in your back - that was a real pain, yukka yukka.” Shawn tried to change his expression at all, to force his wooden features into a less wide eyed look.

"That's the spirit!!" Mr. Clayton rejoiced. "Your new dummy body and face is quite real looking, isn’t it? Or at least it seems real when you make it talk like a real person, and sometimes — but not too often — even when it isn’t talking. Ah yes, dummies. Special dolls made with care and are meant to last your whole life long...hahahahaa!"

"My  name is Mr. Clayton! A dummy needs a ridiculous name like that."

Shawn looked in the mirror. Shawn was now Mr. Clayton's size, the two now standing somehow side by side in front of the mirror, no longer sitting. Shawn was just about as big as an average five-year-old boy, has black hair (real hair, not painted), a little pug nose, a knowing smile when his mouth is closed, and a great goofy grin when his mouth was open. Shawn still had large eyes that were light hazel (glass) and could blink, either one to wink or both of them at the same time.

"Look, your eyebrows are made of real hair and move up and down just like yours did!"

"Before we practice, ask yourself this: how can a block of wood, carved and painted in the likeness of a human being, ever hope to be “natural?” Easy. Have you ever had a pet? Many pets are taught to behave using commands — which may be direct...Umm, think of things like “stay” or “sit.” Anyway, these commands might also involve subtle gestures and sounds, all of which you may make without conscious thought. You ever heard of that?"

Shawn found himself blinking rapidly, the goofy grin on his face not particularly comforting. "Umm, I guess? What does being a dummy have to do with teaching a pet?" He had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer, but as he thought about it, another thing occurred to him.

"Hey, if I'm a dummy, does that mean I can do dummy things? Like how you changed wishes and stuff?" Maybe this was his chance to help Ralph? Though most of him was hoping the answer was 'nope, because you're not really a dummy, this is just practice'.

"You “push their levers” and “pull their cords” so to speak, to make them do what you want them to do. We can control our pets without effort — without thinking about it. You tell a dog to come and you give it a nice biscuit. And the dog is happy. And it should be. And if you do it enough,  you forget that you're actually doing it. It just, kind of happens. We do one thing and think another." Mr. Clayton explained

"It's possible to do all sorts of things with wishes and without wishes and by changing and without changing things. But it isn't up to me to decide how to do them. Or you for that matter. It's up to Greater Ventriloquism. The more we let ourselves go, the more all of those things become possible. Funny, isn't it?"

Shawn's glass eyes gave a little 'clack' 'clack' 'clack' sound each time that he blinked.

"Boy, that's some mannequin mouth you've got on you." Mr. Clayton observed, clearly referring to the lines on each side of Shawn's mouth that outlined his chin and made it protrude out in an obviously, puppet-like way.

"Is mannequin mouth a good thing or a bad thing?" Shawn managed to slow down his rapid blinking and stopped trying to unsuccessfully make his face emote. He was still scared, but forced himself to remain calm, and was almost successful. As long as he didn't think too hard about his situation, at least. He tried to keep his mouth closed when he wasn't talking - neither of the two expressions he could manage now were particularly comforting, but seeing himself (or a dummy version of himself) do that goofy grin made him feel dumb.

"So are you saying dummies are pets? You give them treats to do what you want?" He wasn't sure what Mr. Clayton's metaphor was talking about, but he had a feeling it was supposed to be kinda insulting. To who, he wasn't sure.

"Mannequin mouth?. Mannequin mouth is what dummies have. You know? Those two lines on the side of your face. And on the sides of mine. The mouth all protruding like its a separate thing. You ever notice that sometimes old, fat woman have mannequin mouth? Yeah they do, don't they? Near the fat on their mouth and chin area, if they're real fat. And especially if they are old. Then you can see a line on each side of their mouth drawn down to the chin. One line on each side really.


Mannequin mouth..." Mr. Clayton mused.


"What's that?" He asked Shawn, as if he got lost in his explanation and didn't hear the second part or Shawn's second question.

"Oh yeah, that makes sense. Don't mind me, I'm feeling a little empty-headed right now. Yukka yukka!" Shawn tried to deliver the line in a funny way, but it sounded a bit strained because his heart wasn't quite in it. "You said you train pets to do what you want by giving them treats. Are dummies the pets, or is the audience?"

Mr. Clayton enjoyed a little chuckle at Shawn's Yucka, Yucka.

"Yes, that's right! You “push their levers” and “pull their cords.” Just give them treats and such, to make them do what you want them to do. We can control our pets without thinking about it after a while. Right?"

Shawn noticed that Mr. Clayton hadn't really answered his question, but he felt like he couldn't (or shouldn't) push further, given his current situation. "I dunno, I wish I knew where people's levers and cords were sometimes. It's hard to know what they want."

"Oh, come now!? Don't be so modest. You've never told a dog or a pet what to do? You've never seen a little doggy in the window and said something to it to make its tail wag?  You've never given a dog?"

"Knick-Knack, Patty-whack, Give a dog a bone!?" Mr. Clayton rhymed, trying to drive the point home to Shawn.

"I had a dog once. But then it turned out Dad stole it and we had to give it back." It was a time Shawn tried not to think about - partly because his Dad had been acting a little scary, but also because it was when Bobby had been living with him. "Is that the lesson this is supposed to teach me?"

"Hmmm. This might be a problem in the teaching of this lesson of Greater Ventriloquism. If you've never done anything of these things, you may have missed out on an important part of childhood, haven't you? How does that make you fee?"

Mr. Clayton asked, his voice a little piqued with curiosity

Shawn hated to let people down, even if it wasn't technically his fault. "I'm sure I can figure it out! We only had the dog for a bit, but I still learned lots. I'm sure I can keep if you try to teach me."

"That's the spirit! Yucka! Yucka! But you know what this means, don't you?"

Shawn looked at his dummy head, stuck on his dummy body, seeing it all with his dummy eyes, and couldn't help but think whatever Mr. Clayton was about to say could somehow make this situation worse. "What does this mean?"

"It means you need to get a pet!!!" Mr. Clayton rejoiced, jumping in the air in a hap-hazard manner, arms flopping about like a jilting puppet.

Shawn actually felt a little relieved it wasn't something super scary. "That'd be nice - though I'd have to spend time taking care of it, and that's time I'm not practicing." He really didn't have all that much free time.

"Have you payed at all attention to this lesson on Greater Ventriloquism?" Mr. Clayton asked, suddenly a serious undertone to his question. It felt suddenly like Shawn was being interrogated by....well....Shawn. After all it was Shawn that was controlling the Puppet and its voice, wasn't it?

Shawn took a look at himself in the mirror. His arm wasn't up Mr. Clayton's back. Mr. Clayton wasn't sitting on his lap. And, to make the distinction even starker, Shawn himself still looked like a Ventriloquist's dummy.

"Pulling levers." Mr. Clayton intoned. "Controlling their cords." Mr. Clayton affected in a dry, emotionless voice.

"That's what you do to Puppets. That's what you do to something that's just an object......"

"That's what you do to me."

"But as we discussed. Its also what you do to pets sometimes, when the training becomes routine." Mr. Clayton explained, his voice now losing a bit of that dark intonation it had just moments before and recovering a light-hearted, mirth characteristic of a show-puppet.

"So as you can see, a pet really does fit into the plan!"

"That makes sense." Shawn said it with far more confidence and cheer than maybe he really felt, not wanting to seem like a dumb kid who didn't understand the lesson. Though all the lever talk made him wonder about the cavity in his back. He tried to reach inside with one of his wooden hands, see if he could move his own mouth-lever. He wasn't sure if it made things better or worse if he could essentially puppet himself.

"Well, I guess I need a pet...umm, am I gonna have to ask my Dad for a dog? Or is it something that I can just trust in Greater Ventriloquism and it'll make sure I have one? It'll probably be a dog, right?"

As Shawn asked the question, he managed to 'hook' onto something with his pinky. It was some kind of protruding object that was deep inside the cavity of his back.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Dexterity + Occult





"Hmmmm. That's a very interesting and very funny question! It's interesting because its fun to imagine-Ha-HA! and it's also fun to think about the kinds of pets that you could have! It's a funny question, because you think I'm more than just a dummy!"

And with that, Mr. Clayton began a light, buoyant chuckle. It wasn't the kind of chuckle that would make a kid feel upset or made fun of. It was rather the kind of chuckle that might make a kid feel accepted in front of a group peers that were laughing with him, not at him. The kind of laughing that was done out of observing a quirky but endearing quality that someone had.

"It's not me at all who is doing this. I'm just a dumb, dumb, dummy! I'm a trifle. I'm nothing. Anything you ever thought that I did do. Any anything you ever saw me do before, is all the result of Bradford, not me."

"And anything that I do from now on is because of you." Mr. Clayton affirmed. "I'm not the thing with magical powers that you once believed I was. Maybe you still believe it. Greater Ventriloquism seems that way only from those on the outside."

OOC: 21:21, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 3 successes using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 1,10(+8),9,5,6.  Dexterity + Occult.

Shawn grabbed something from his back with that one pinky finger and as he did, he held onto it, pulling whatever it was down. It felt like a small lever.

"What's that you have there?...." Mr. Clayton asked, tilting his Puppet head and looking at Shawn the way a dog does when it hears a strange noise.

Shawn's pinky pulled the lever down

"Bwhaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh........." Shawn's mouth emitted a sound coming out of that Puppet face that was entirely involuntary but seemed to correspond to the tugging of that lever.

Shawn moved his hand away from the lever, startled by what was coming out of his mouth. Again, his puppet face hid the expression he wanted to make, so he just maintained that same smile as his mouth opened and shut. Assuming that sound coming from his mouth eventually stopped, he looked over at Mr. Clayton. "Sorry - I didn't know what that would do...wait, if I'm the one pulling the lever, who's making that sound?"

"You are Shawn. You are doing all of this." Mr. Clayton informed Shawn. "I am as stupid as that silly little sound that you made because I am nothing. And you're just as clueless as that sound that came out of your mouth. And just as stupid."

"It's OK to be stupid and silly. But you have to accept it. Puppets are dumb. They are a trifle. They are toys to be played with."

Shawn was about to retort that he wasn't a trifle or a toy, but looking the mirror, it didn't seem like it would be a really successful argument. "Well, maybe I'm a little empty headed *now*. But you said that dummies can do all sorts of things because they're dummies. So even if it's stupid, maybe I can still make stuff happen." Stubbornly, he reached back into his cavity and found the lever again. This time, he tried to be more deliberate about it - instead of pulling it randomly, he tried to move it like he did Mr. Clayton's, as if he was trying to mimic human speech.

"Oh that's just you trying to make up for being a stupid, dumb dummy." Mr. Clayton rejoiced in a snickering tone. "Are you a dummy?"

Shawn did, in fact, feel really silly, playing around like this with stuff he didn't understand in the least. He withdrew his hand, only not completely shamefaced because he couldn't make that expression. "I guess I am the dummy! Nothing upstairs but wood and air!" He tried to keep his tone upbeat, like he was delivering a punchline at a stage show. Hopefully this was what Mr. Clayton wanted to hear.

Mr. Clayton's mouth opened and shut, opened and shut, open and then snapped shut again. And with it, he laughed.

"That's a good one! Yucka! Yucka!" Mr. Clayton moved his hand up to his eye, the back of the wooden, stiff hand making a gesture like he was wiping a way a tear of laughter.

"But really, since you're a dummy. And I'm a dummy. And we're just two dummies." He leaned in towards Shawn to emphasize the question he was asking.

"What would you say is the dumbest part of you?"

Shawn could see he picked the right tack to make Mr. Clayton happy, and decided that maybe keeping it up would help him figure out whatever lesson he was supposed to take from all this. "Probably the head, Mr. Clayton. And arm's just an arm, but a head's supposed to think, and mine doesn't seem to at all."

"Yes, that's true." Mr. Clayton said in a tone that suggested he was interested in further exploring the topic.

"But what is it inside that dummy head of yours that you find to be the worst part? It's obvious you can't think. You're a dummy. And dummies aren't smart. They move because others move them."

"But what is it? What is it about the unique you that is so..." Mr. Clayton's voice trailed off....

"Stupid." He blurted out.

"Dumb." He inquired with finality.

Shawn felt the sting of Mr. Clayton's repeated insults, but he'd heard them frequently enough that he was almost used to them. "I guess...the bit that can't figure out what he's doing wrong?"

"Can't figure it out...." Mr. Clayton repeated wistfully.

"And do you think that makes you an idiot?" He probed. "Someone who can't even figure something out?"

"I guess, yeah...I'm not very good at school stuff either." Shawn tried to keep a bright, cheerful face on it, but there was a moment of genuine sadness in there too.

"Yeah, you are kind of stupid at school work." Mr. Clayton agreed.

"And even if you were good at school, which you aren't, then you have to admit that you'd never ever make it in an one of those honors classes. So, it doesn't really matter." He concluded. "What else are you stupid at?" Mr. Clayton asked, wanting to fully explore the subject.

"I dunno, I guess I'm always disappointing people..." Shawn was feeling increasingly bad about this particular topic. "What does this have to do with anything anyway? I don't make fun of you!"

"We already know that I’m a dummy. I’m nothing. I’m a trifle. I am made of wood and glass and things that people use. I am something that is used. So anything that I say and anything that I am is nothing. I’m really just bits of things that have been put together. If I have a thought or an idea, maybe it’s one of those bits or pieces of wood. But it’s not a real idea." Mr. Clayton explained “Its not something that means anything. Not a real thought.”

"And if not, maybe the person who pulled my lever or coord is responsible? " He wondered. "Now let’s look at you in the mirror." Mr. Clayton instructed.

“Do you look like a Dummy?”

Shawn forced himself to looked in the mirror, hoping that whatever weird force had turned him into a dummy was wearing off. "I do look like a dummy...but if I'm thinking and talking, who's pulling my levers, then, huh?"

"You're right! You do look like a dummy! You look just like me!" Mr. Clayton agreed.

"You clearly look like a dummy. You're all wooden. You're all fake. You don't look or act like a real boy. And there are some things that are very dumb about you. You said so yourself."

“I think in my own case it might just be the bits of wood rubbing together to form some kind of strange reaction or some kind of illusion. I think---I know---that dummies like me can't talk. They can't think for themselves.”

"What do you think is going on in your own case?"

"I'm not all fake!" Even as Shawn said it, though, he realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd talked to someone without lying to them or manipulating them. "I'm a real person, I am. Even if I lie sometimes."

"You could be right about that. You could be real.” Mr. Clayton conceded.




"And yet—you are a dummy. The two things have to not happen at the same time?” Mr. Clayton asked.

“What could it mean?”
This message was last edited by the player at 02:09, Sun 05 Apr 2020.

"I don't know!" Shawn folded his arms petulantly. "If I'm real, then the question doesn't make sense, and if I'm a dummy, I'm not gonna be able to figure it out!"

"But what if—.” Mr. Clayton started. He stopped halfway through as if a lightbulb had gone off inside that wooden puppet head of his.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:11, Sun 05 Apr 2020.

Shawn furrowed his brow - or he would have if he could move his face. "What? What's wrong?"

"But what if both were true at the same time?” Mr. Clayton asked in genuine contemplation.

"So I'm a dummy and a real person at the same time?" Shawn didn't quite see how that made sense, but if it was possible, it also suggested something else might be true. "Does that mean you might be a dummy and a real person too?"

“I mean—“ Mr. Clayton explained “that you’ve always been a dummy who thinks he’s real. It’s just those bits of wood working. Just the illusion of the puppet on the ventriloquist’s lap. That’s why you can be both.”

Shawn didn't have much of a response to that, and he was left scrambling. "Well...what difference does it make? I've always been me." He didn't deliver it with much conviction.

“Of course you’ve always been the way you have always been. But real? Look at yourself.“ Mr. Clayton explained “That’s the real you. It isn’t your fault that you were never real and no one told you. No one told me either. It’s something that you discovered yourself. Just look at your own reflection.”

Shawn wasn't quite sure if he bought Mr. Clayton's argument (though the proof was right there in the mirror...), but he didn't see how arguing the point further would help. "Okay, I guess I'm not real...so now what?"

“You aren't real? Or there is no real?“ Mr. Clayton asked“It's like this whole big thing is a lie. You can pretend that it isn't. But you see yourself in the mirror. And you've been playing the part your whole life.”

"Why is it that you lie so much?" Mr. Clayton asked in jovial tone.

"We both know you're a liar. And that fits. Hehehehehahaha." Mr. Clayton jaunted, though the tone wasn't one of poking fun of Shawn. He laughed the laugh of an audience member who just recently figured a joke out from a comedian who delivered the punch line a long time ago.

"It's like all of your lies are pointing at the fact that your whole life is one big lie. And in a strange way, that's the only thing that is true."

"Think about that." Mr. Clayton offered.

"And when you're done thinking. Then you'll have to think some more on it. Have you thought about it? Because we aren't going to be seeing each other for some time I'm afraid."

Shawn knew he lied sometimes, but he liked to think of most of it as just being polite. Like, if your Mom gave you some food that wasn't very good, but you said it was good anyway. Was that really a lie? But he kept that thought to himself. Instead, he tried to think about what Mr. Clayon had said...until he was brought up short. "What?! Why won't I see you?" Sure, the dummy was constantly criticizing him for stuff, but he needed the puppet's help!

“Just like you are pulling my levers someone is pulling yours.“ Mr. Clayton explained“You must think of two things before we are separated from one another. The first, is what we just talked about. The fact that you aren't real. And that for you, there is no real. Because you are like me: a dummy. Promise me you will think of it. Consider it.”

"The second, is that you are a liar." Mr. Clayton said, without judgement. "Remember these two wow-zury, crazy, super-funny ideas! Yucka Yucka!"

Shawn didn't like the idea of someone pulling his levers, or that he was a dummy. Or that he was a liar. But he especially didn't like the idea that his protection and his one ticket to fixing things was going away. "Can you at least fix what you did to Ralph before you go?"

“We must do something about Ralph. But isn't me who will be going away.“ Mr. Clayton explained “You will be leaving me.”

"It's not your fault. Dummy's don't have a lot of control. You know that already . I mean, just look at what you had to do during the show to get me to talk! Just look how you have to pack me away when you're done! Yes, you'll be leaving me. But it won't be  you're fault."

Shawn felt a real sense of relief that whatever was happening wouldn't be his fault, but there was still all the very important stuff he needed Mr. Clayton for. "And Mr. Cherrywinks? What about him? Oh, but we should work on Ralph first, you gotta show me how to do that."

"Hehehehehehehe“ Mr. Clayton tittered. “Boy do you like certainty!” He proclaimed.

"It's not your fault. We'll get the Ralph thing sorted out. And Rufus. Didn't you say something about Rufus?" Mr. Clayton said.

"The Clown is another story. If what your new friend said is true. Someone on the block is Cherrywinks. And that someone needs to be found out and destroyed."

"OK. But I can't do any of this without us coming together. When  you're taken away, you've got to come back to me. Otherwise...." Mr. Clayton paused with dramatic effect.

"They're all dead! Yucka Yucka!"

"We're together now, isn't there something we can do right now?" Shawn knew the stakes were high, but surely if they were going to be separated they could do something now while they were together, if only to have one less thing to take care of while apart. "And I thought you fixed Eddie already? You showed me the newspaper and everything."

"We owe it all to Greater Ventriloquism, without which, we would have nothing. I'm just a dumb-dumb-dummy!“ Mr. Clayton responded, contradicting Shawn. “I didn't do anything. If anything happen, it was because you trusted me. But I'm not the one you should be trusting. There is something greater than me. Greater than a great ventriloquist like you. It's Greater Ventriloquism!” He rejoiced.

"The sooner you understand that it's your own actions that determine what happens, the more free you'll be to do anything and everything that you want!"

Shawn had been hearing variations on that since he'd first picked up Mr. Clayton, but it never seemed to go anywhere. If that was really where the power lay, Shawn was ready to call his bluff. He looked at his blank puppet eyes in the mirror, fully aware of what had happened the last time he'd said the words, but seeing no other way forward. "All right, if that's who I need to trust, I'm gonna do it. I give myself to Greater Ventriloquism!" He braced himself for...something to happen, at least.

The tension was in the air. Shawn heard his own voice shout the words, proclaiming them in his room. And after he said them, he could hear his own voice breathing in and out in the silent, stuffiness of his own bedroom.

Mr. Clayton stood there stiff as a wooden puppet.

And then.....


Nothing happened.

Shawn looked around the bedroom, then checked himself in the mirror to see if he was still a dummy. He looked at Mr. Clayton next to see if he had anything else to add.

"Good. You're on the right track. This is wonderful!!” He rejoiced, as if nothing happening was exactly what was to be celebrated.

"If nothing happens, it means that action must be taken!"

"Don't forget, all the things that we learn from Greater Ventriloquism will eventually lead to our action. While we must have trust in Greater Ventriloquism, knowledge is for acting upon."

"Does that make sense?"

"So, what kind of action does Greater Ventriloquism want from us? What kind of thing would be something that Greater Ventriloquism would want?" He asked, sounding like he was genuinely trying to figure it out himself.

"Whatever it is, it's probably something that will require sacrifice and make us uncomfortable. Because that's what growing up and learning is all about." Mr. Clayton said, echoing the sentiments of many cartoons that Shawn had watched somewhere.

Shawn felt disappointed that things weren't clearer, though he thought he could mostly follow what Mr. Clayton was trying to say. "How will I know if it's the right thing to do?"

"You'll know.” Mr. Clayton explained, as if that explanation was good enough. "You'll just know."

"The way I know that I'm a Dummy."

Mr. Clayton made a fake, clearing-his-voice noise and then touched his bow tie with one wooden hand, adjusting it slightly.

"You just don't know yet. Don't really know that you're a Dummy. I understand. Its OK. But let's focus on fixing Ralph and fixing Rufus so he's back. And you'll see. It will be better."

"So let's start again. What kind of thing do you think that Greater Ventriloquism would say 'gee, that's a super-swell, super-fantastic, super-duper fun sacrifice Shawn!', Yucka-Yucka-Yucka!"

"I thought Rufus- I mean Eddy was already back?" Mr. Clayton was seeming oddly insistent about fixing Eddy, which made Shawn wonder what was going on with him. "But I guess if Greater Ventriloquism wants a sacrifice, it has to be something important...does it have to come from me?"

"We have to see Rufus!” Mr. Clayton demanded. "He'll show us the meaning behind what he is. And then, you'll be able to understand what you are."

"Does it have to come from you? It always has to come from you? Who else would it come from?"

Shawn wasn't sure what Mr. Clayton meant when he talked about Rufus, but he couldn't help but feel a little nervous about it. "Well, if I'm a dummy, then dummies can't really have anything to sacrifice, right?"

"Now your getting it!"

Mr. Clayton craned his neck forward, huge, eyes wide and seeming to stair through Shawn directly into---Shawn. The Shawn on the inside.

"Prove it then. If you're a Dummy. Sacrifice something a real person would never sacrifice. Do something that a real person would never do." Mr. Clayton dared.

"Remember that sewing kit that your Mom has?"

Shawn tried to remember when Mom used to sew. "I think I remember it. What about it?"

"That needle she used to sew on buttons with? Well, let's face it, she never really sewed anything with that kit. She's been too busy thinking about your movie career to care much about anything else. Still. That needle in the kit....Why don't you go and get it? We're about to have a fun, super-duper time!"

Shawn did remember the kit vaguely, and stealing one part of it didn’t sound too bad. “I guess that’d be okay. It’s all for a good cause, right?”

"Let's go together." Mr. Clayton said. "Two Dummies. On a Dumb Mission! Yucka! Yucka!"

Shawn considered that a little skeptically. "Won't I need a free hand, if I'm going to steal something?"

"A free hand?" Mr. Clayton said, slipping out from Shawn's arm and walking all by himself across the room, the 'clack' 'clack' of his wooden feet hitting the floor and sounding line bones. "Nothing is free. And no one is free. But you can use your free hand if you want. Although, I wouldn't exactly call it a free hand. I think of it more like a hand that isn't free. It's just not being used at the moment. No one is pulling the strings on it. After all, you are just a dummy."

Shawn glanced down at his hand, flexing it a little bit now that it was free...wait, hadn't Mr. Clayton been standing next to him just now? It was all a little confused. He glanced at himself in the mirror, trying to see if he was back to normal. Or at least flesh and blood once more.

"Look at this" Mr. Clayton said, pointing Shawn out in the mirror. "You look like you again." He opened his palm, as if he was presenting Shawn in the mirror to some expected crowd, the crowd, in this case, was Shawn.

"You're still a dummy though. Remember that." He explained. "Remember that. Beneath that exterior coat of skin and those dazzling blue eyes, you're made of wood and plastic. Felt. Glass. Those are your real materials."

"Sure you look like you are right now. But that's just an illusion. You've seen the illusion of who you really are drop. The curtain in our show exposed for just a moment. Don't forget..."

"You know so much about life is forgetting?"

"Did you forget about how Erik trenky-Trenk-Trenk picked on you?" Mr. Clayton asked.

"Did you forget how you killed Gaggles? Saw-saw-saw-sawing that nose off, hehehhe?" Mr. Clayton probed.

"Did  you forget how you betrayed all of those children in that log cabin? Or how your Mother doesn't love you unless you are a successful actor?"

"Don't forget those things. And don't forget that they are all illusions. Just like that reflection of you. An illusion. A Dummy's illusion."

Shawn hadn’t forgotten any of that stuff, not really. Sometimes he really wished he could, though. Instead, he tried to refocus on the here and now. Besides, if he really was a dummy like Mr. Clayton said, none of it was really his fault. Instead, he checked that he was really back to normal, using his free hand to poke at his skin, and pulling exaggerated expressions with his face. Finally, in as much an effort to drown out the memories Mr. Clayton as to reassure himself that he hadn’t actually physically turned into a dummy, he took a deep breath and held it as long as he could. A dummy wouldn’t need to breathe, right?

OOC: Shawn Rolls Occult + Stamina

OOC: 11:38, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 8,2,9,3.  Occult + Stamina.

Shawn held his breath.

And he kept holding it.

And he kept holding it.

And he kept holding it.

It was only about 15 seconds into it when he noticed something. Something that he had never noticed before. Maybe it was the fact that he had had the conversation with Mr. Clayton or maybe it was because Shawn was aware that dummies didn't have anything to hold. But at that moment Shawn was aware....

He had no breath to hold.

"Dummies don't have lungs! You Dummy!" Mr. Clayton chided. And the Puppet broke out into a cackling laugh, the joints on his arms clicking and clacking with each jolt of laughter like a crab skittering across sand on a rocky beach.

"Look. See. The moment you begin to doubt yourself, it all comes together so nicely."

Shawn felt his understanding lurch. He'd thought he understood what Mr. Clayton said when he said Shawn was a dummy. But he'd thought it was in a sort of distant sense, like when you saw a story in the news about something happening far away. He'd sort of believed it too, in the way that he also believed brushing his teeth stopped him from getting cavities. But this, this was something right in front of him, something completely literal.

He stared at himself in the mirror, seeing his own flesh and blood self but understanding for the first time that it was a lie. In fact, he stared for so long that he realized he wasn't blinking...did he even need to blink anymore? "But...what about everything else? Do I still eat? Still drink? Still sleep? Still go to the bathroom?"

"Yucka Yucka!" Mr. Clayton laughed.

"You could be dying right now! Just right now! Dying! Dying!" He laughed, without offering any further explanation for the moment. His arms flailed around in a frenzy of hilarity, like he was enjoying Shawn's reaction and the astonishment of the moment. His flimsy wrist were flipping like loose flippers. His feet jangled and scraped at the floor and his head lolled to one side.


"Dying! Heheheheheeh! Dying!"

"C'mon, take this serious! I need to know!" Shawn was freaked out enough that he wasn't just playing along like it was a big silly show like he normally did. Belatedly, he realized that might have been a mistake, and he tried to backtrack a bit. "I mean, I guess it's not that serious, I'm a bit of a joke. But I still wanna hear the punchline!"

"Ehh..What does it matter anyway? You want to know? You really do, huh?" Mr. Clayton repeated, his laughter winding down to a mere trickle.

"What is it you wanted to know again?" He asked.

"Boy you really need to know. It's really important to you. You aren't breathing. You're dead. You've always been dead. You've never been alive. And now you're just waking up to it."

"What you think is breathing is just a lie. A lie you tell yourself. You're really a Dummy. Wood. Plastic. Glass."

"That's what you're made of."

"And what's worse, you think you're worth something."

"Look at me! I'm someone special! I'm a real person, blah, blah, blah! Yucka! Yucka!" Mr. Clayton mocked, mimicking Shawn's voice with striking accuracy, except for the 'Yucka' part.

"There." Mr. Clayton finished. "You happy?" Before Shawn could answer he answered his own question.

"No? Alright then how's this:

"You've never been alive. You've never been special. You're just a puppet. Plain and simple. Think about it...there probably isn't a single gesture or movement. Not a single phrase or reaction that you have that hasn't been given to you by someone else."

"You're trying to please everyone. Why? Trying to please me right now, aren't you? Why?"

"Am I your Daddy? Huh? Am I your Mommy?" Mr. Clayton asked sarcastically.

Shawn almost flinched at Mr. Clayton’s harsh words, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to show weakness, he wanted to pretend he was stronger than that, because maybe if he pretended to be he could fool himself. But something about Mr. Clayton’s words really set him off, something wrong he couldn’t help pushing back on. “You think I think I’m special!? I don’t at all! I know I’m not special! I’m dumb! I keep screwing up! I always choose the wrong thing! Why shouldn’t I listen to everyone else, they know better than me. I’m just a dumb lump...a dummy, I guess...”

"That's right!" Mr. Clayton yelled at Shawn, brow furrowing inward in an angry glare of pure hatred. This wasn't some kind of encouragement the Puppet was offering.


"You're a DUMMY." He said, the words whipping across the room and lashing at Shawn with quick hatred.

"You.........FUCK." The Puppet finished with a big word. The biggest of big, bad words. The word that would surely get any kid in trouble for saying it at any time, anywhere, with any adult.

"I don't think I've every seen you angry. Just never. You've never seen you angry." Mr. Clayton observed.

Shawn had heard that word a few times before - usually when something went wrong on the set. He'd never said it himself, though, and he'd certainly never been called it directly. "I get angry! I just...I don't need people to see that I'm angry. What's the point of people knowing I'm angry? It doesn't do anything."

"I want to see it!" Mr. Clayton yelled, with hatred. “I want to see you get angry. I want to know what I’m working with here. You know, sooner or later one day you’ll realize that it’s only us two Dummies in this room. Then you’ll save your act for people like Ralph. And your Dad. And you’re Mom. And everyone and everything else you’re trying to impress. Yes you’re putting on such a great act. Actor. Shawn the actor. You know? I’d like to see that anger of yours. It doesn’t have to do anything. I just wanna see it. See you wearing it. Like a new pair of clothes!”

"Fine. I guess if you're just a dummy..." Shawn wasn't sure what to do at first. He felt pretty angry, sure, but it wasn't like he could switch his expressions on with the push of a button. So he just tried to relax and stop thinking about what his face was doing or how his posture looked. He thought about all the times Mr. Clayton insulted him, belittled him, all the things Shawn did for him for no appreciation.

It felt like something suddenly opening up inside of him, something that he hadn't let free in a long time. His limbs shook, and his face screwed up into an enraged grimace. "I hate you!" He slammed his fists against the bed, more to express the sudden emotional rush he was feeling than to actually damage anything. It wasn't scary or offputting or anything like that. It was just...kind of pathetic. Shawn looked like a toddler having a tantrum, with kicking limbs and a screwed up expression filled with utterly ineffectual fury. He felt surprised that tears were pouring down his face, as he let the anger at least temporarily overwhelm his self-control.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:02, Thu 07 May 2020.

"You're the only one who can change things." Mr. Clayton nodded his head in agreement with the cathartic feeling Shawn now embraced. But he wanted more.

"Come on! Get angry! Get angry at Bobby's death!!!! If not for him. For you! You could have stopped it. You could have stopped your Mom from leaving, wherever she ran off to."

Shawn turned his thoughts to Bobby, which made him sadder, but didn’t diminish his rage. “If Mom hadn’t taken me to that stupid motel, I might’ve been able to save him...” He trailed off as his painful, pathetic flailing anger sought more targets. “And you! If you hadn’t messed around with that wish, he’d still be living with me! You did so much stuff for Bradford, why are you so weak whenever you’re helping me, huh? Am I not good enough?!”

"You're not good enough!" Mr. Clayton shot back in anger, the wooden face now warped in rage, eyes still wide open, malicious grin ear to ear.

"Because Bradford did things you still aren't willing to do. You want things to change!? You want action!?" He shouted in his high-pitched voice.

"Then you've got to quit dithering and do something! Let my teaching seep deep into the root of what you are. Stop fighting what I'm telling you. Stop trying to be what you thought you were and start trying to be what you are."

"You want change!? Do what Bradford did. Stop pretending to be a dummy and start acting like one. Do things that will hurt you! Do things that will hurt others! Things that shouldn't be allowed to happen. Things that will prove that you are in a living nightmare and that nothing you do or say matters!!!" Mr. Clayton yelled.

Shawn flinched back from Mr. Clayton's rage, already pushing his own anger back down. This is why he didn't let himself get mad like this - it made people want to hit back, and Shawn just didn't like people yelling at him. He sniffled a little as he stopped crying, using a bedsheet to wipe his eyes - at least he thought he did. Could puppets cry?

Once he'd calmed himself enough to speak, he nodded contritely. "You're probably right. You said you needed me to steal a needle, right? Will that help?"

"That's right." Mr. Clayton said, the anger calming as Shawn wiped his tears on his bed.

"You've got to steal that needle." The Puppets tone switched to one of delight and joy. "So we can start. Start to show you all of the wonderful things. So together we can do the things that you want. The things that you've been telling me all along that you want to do."

"We're going to save everyone. And we're going to make you free so everything is wonderful." The Puppet promised.

Shawn nodded, his face and expression already clear - it was something his acting teachers had showed him, how to reset quickly so that you could do another take if needed. “Yeah, that’s why we’re doing this. We’re gonna save everyone. “ When the situation was put that way, it made him feel better. All the fear and anger and bad stuff, it’d all be worth it in the end. “Let’s go.”

Mr. Clayton made his way to the door and pawed at the knob.

"Help me out, would you?" Mr. Clayton said with a wry smile.
"Some dummies are made shorter than others." He remarked. "But remember, they are still are dummies."

Shawn was surprised that Mr. Clayton was going to be tagging along, but at the same time, he didn’t want to do this alone. He went to the door and opened it as quietly as he could.

When Shawn opened the door, fresh air came pouring into his room reminding him that he had once again spent hours and hours practicing with Mr. Clayton and that his room probably smelled bad. Light also came into the room, forcing Shawn to temporarily adjust his eyes to the new environment.

Looking around, he didn't see anyone in the hallway. It was clearly night time. Maybe the middle of the night. But Shawn had given more time to practicing with Mr. Clayton than he had to actually paying attention to the clock.

The hallway was empty. Mom's room was just down the hall past the bathroom that that girl Sara had flooded that one time.

Shawn glanced behind to see if Mr. Clayton was following him, and then he moved toward his Mom's room. He didn't sneak at first - after all, it looked like he was going to the bathroom. But he paused at the bathroom door and listened for signs of activity before heading to Mom's room.

Shawn stopped in front of Mom's door, his food creaking on wooden panel, eyes looking at the door knob. In the silence of the hallway, Shawn heard the pitter-patter of rain drops falling on the roof and there was a sudden flash of lightning outside. The brilliant light came through all the windows of the house and for a nano-second illuminated the hallway, though there was no sound of thunder.

Listening through the rain, Shawn heard nothing coming through Mom's door. Not a sound. Only the sound of the rain outside.

Shawn reached out and turned the doorknob as quietly as he could, making as little noise as possible. It should be empty, right?

The door opened with a loooooong creaking sound. Shawn thought he heard a sudden whisper.

"Go in..."

It was Mr. Clayton's voice, egging Shawn on, encouraging him. Or was it Shawn's inner voice? Or was it Mr. Clayton stirring Shawn's inner voice.

"It's right in the first drawer on her side of the bed in the end table."

Shawn walked into the room, and once he was sure he hadn't attracted any other attention, went straight to the end table drawer and opened it up. He knew what the sewing kit looked like, so it wouldn't be that hard to find...

Shawn pulled the needle out of the drawer and it glimmered in the dim light: sharp and thin. But it wasn't long until the voice --interior to Shawn--called him

"Hurry back to the room! Hurry!" it urged.

Shawn tucked away the needle, then quickly hurried back to the room - though he made sure to shut the drawer and close the door on his way out.

When Shawn got back to the room he saw that Mr. Clayton was in the corner, head lolled to the side. But as Shawn drew closer the puppet animated itself, coming to life and then standing up.

"This part is very very important" Mr. Clayton emphasized.
"Stick the needle through your nail on your finger. Your, you know, pointy finger." He said, waving his wooden index finger at Shawn.

Shawn made sure his door was closed, and sat back down on his bed. He thought he understood what Mr. Clayton was asking, but it sounded a little tricky. He positioned the flat of the needle on his pointer finger, and then tried to push the needle upwards, through the dead part of his nail. "Like this?"

Mr. Clayton tilted his head as Shawn committed to the action.

"Do it again." Mr. Clayton said with curiosity.
"This time. Just take the needle and put it on the end table. Then put your finger on top of it and slam it down so it goes right through the flesh." He said casually.

Shawn moved to balance the needle on the table, but the full instructions stopped him short. "What? That'll really hurt!"

Mr. Clayton tilted his head the other direction and looked at Shawn with a vapid expression like the Puppet was staring at some kind of interesting bug.

"If it hurts, it means that you still think you aren't a dummy." Mr. Clayton said with a sigh. He moved forward, almost floating across the floor and Shawn could see the tips of the Puppet's toes scrapping along the rug before Mr. Clayton came to a stop in front of Shawn.

"Just close your eyes if it helps." He remarked with a soothing voice.

Shawn stared at Mr. Clayton for a long while, as if he was waiting for him to say 'just joking!' in that reedy voice of his. After a minute or so, it became clear that the puppet was serious. Reluctantly, he went over to the end table set the needle up on it. He hovered his hand over it for a moment or two, hesitating. And then he closed his eyes.

He tried to visualize what he'd seen before of himself in the bedroom mirror. He'd been made of wood then. He didn't need to breathe. This was just one more part of that, right? It wouldn't hurt, because it wasn't like there were any actual nerves in his fingers. With his eyes closed, he pictured his finger as it had looked, made of wood. He tried to feel it, picturing what it would be like for his whole hand to be made of wood. He pictured it so hard it almost felt real, and before his concentration slipped, he brought down his finger on the needle as hard as he could.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:47, Sat 06 June 2020.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Stamina + Resolve with the following results

0 Successes - Shawn opens his eyes and.....

1 Success - Shawn adds 1 dot in Occult permanently to his character sheet

2+ Successes - Shawn adds 2 dots in Occult permanently to his character sheet
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 22:58, Sat 06 June 2020.

OOC: 18:59, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 3 successes using 8d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 7,7,10(+5),1,10(+2),1,1,9.  Stamina + Resolve + WP.

There was a wet, sucking sound and the feeling of warmth spreading out from Shawn's finger down to his palm and then wrist.



"Would you look...at....that." Mr. Clayton said with wonder.

Shawn could see the needle sticking out of his finger. It was completely through. It was jammed from the tip of his index finger and was jutting out through the nail, a deep purple gash from where it penetrated, leaving savage red blood that ran down his arm and was pooling onto the table.

But it didn't hurt.

Not at all.

Shawn stared at the needle, and the blood for a long moment, waiting for a surge of pain that never actually came. "I think...I understand a little more." But eventually more practical considerations raised themselves. He looked around for some tissues to mop up the blood - deeper understanding or not, he didn't want to get in trouble for getting blood everywhere.

"It turns out you are a dummy!" Mr. Clayton rejoiced. "Ha! A real person would have felt pain at that, yucka-yucka." Mr. Clayton bent down in an awkward pose, wooden joints bending as he did so and put his hand into Shawn's laundry basket.

He pulled out a pair of used underwear--tighty-whities and handed it to Shawn.

Before Shawn could even think about grabbing it Mr. Clayton said

"See? Now don't get surprised if you feel pain later. It's part of the show. Understand?"

Shawn tried to carefully pull out the needle, glad it didn't hurt. But he gave Mr. Clayton on upset look. "Why later? Why would I feel it at all if you're right?" He grabbed the underwear and wrapped it around his finger.

"Ha-^HA!" Mr. Clayton laughed in a tone suggesting that Shawn was onto something. "If you feel something, its because you don't believe that you are a Dummy yet." Mr. Clayton concluded.

Shawn pulled the needle out, and a torrent of blood came out from the tip of his finger, splattering onto the end table with wet sound, and then dripping onto the floor.

Shawn wrapped the underwear around his bleeding finger tightly, concentrating on the fact that it was only wood so couldn’t possibly hurt. But he still didn’t want to make a mess, so he tried to wipe up as much blood as he could with his makeshift bandage - without taking it off his finger, of course.

"Look at that gushing finger! Yucka, Yucka!!!" Mr. Clayton said, pointing at Shawn finger covered in the rag. The blood on the end table was mostly clean, leaving Shawn with a finger that was wrapped, double wrapped with a white rag which was gradually turning a bright, blood-red.

"You're an idiot." Mr. Clayton remarked. "But that's OK. Because I'm an idiot too!" He shouted in a high-pitched, keening voice.

"Who would put a needle through their own finger!!!?" Mr. Clayton said. "You're so stupid! Stooooopid! Stoooooopid!" Mr. Clayton shouted. "Someone putting a needle through their own finger. That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen anyone do ever!" 

Shawn used his free hand to apply pressure to the rag, trying to staunch the blood flow. "Why's it stupid? If I'm a dummy, then it doesn't matter if I put a needle through it." He didn't like being insulted for following someone else's instructions.

"So right you are!!!" Mr. Clayton encouraged Shawn, shaking his own dummy head in disbelief. "Right you are!!! Yucka! Yucka!"

"But then again, why would you take anything I say seriously! I'm a dummy too!" Mr. Clayton rejoiced.

Then in a serious tone he said "No, seriously. You still don't fully believe your a Dummy. But maybe you do! Maybe you do. After all, your finger doesn't hurt right now."

"We'll have to go and see what this means tomorrow. You know? Check in on it. Check in on that finger!" He said, clapping his wooden dummy hands together. And the hands made a dull, 'thwapping' sound each time they came together, a mockery of a real person clapping.

'clouack!'

'clouack!'

'clouack!'

It was a dull and false sound. But it was quickly interrupted by something else that Mr. Clayton said "I can't wait to see how much you believe and how much you don't believe! Do you remember that pyramid? It was so colorful wasn't it? It's so important you know. To think about things and whats on top and what's on the bottom, don't you think?"

Shawn was relieved to hear that what he said was at least partly correct - he hoped he could muster enough belief that his finger still didn’t hurt tomorrow. But he was also glad for the change in subject. He was worried if he kept talking about his finger, it would wear off and start hurting. “I remember the pyramid. Didn’t Junior dream about it too?”

"Oh Yes. But Bradford was the biggest dreamer of them all." Mr. Clayton informed Shawn, tilting his head.

"What do you think of Junior? Mr. Clayton asked quizzically

Shawn considered the question. "Umm, I guess he's a good friend." He paused for a moment, then realized that he should probably add more than that. "He's kinda annoying sometimes, 'cause he always wants me to say I'm his best friend. But he's still nice." Shawn wasn't even sure if he had a best friend. Not since Bobby...

Mr. Clayton seemed interested in this last part. "Would you be best friends with him?" Mr. Clayton asked.

"Best of besty-best friends?" Mr. Clayton asked again, giving all the indication that he might be chiding Shawn.

"Would you be the very best of friends with Junior?" Mr. Clayton asked before Shawn could answer and then he said in a low voice

"Shawn and Junior sitt'in in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G..." He spelled the word 'kissing' out in a sing-song, rhyme kind of, way, the way Shawn might hear kids do at the playground that were younger.

"I don't wanna kiss Junior!" Shawn felt stung at Mr. Clayton's childish taunts - if he wanted to kiss anyone, it wouldn't be Junior! He didn't want to kiss much of anyone, it seemed to be the domain of older kids anyway. "I don't wanna make him hate me by saying he's not my best friend, but I don't think he's really my best friend. Bobby was my best friend, but..."

Shawn's shouts did nothing to stop the Puppet. "...first comes love, then comes marraige, then comes Shawn in the baby carriage!" Mr. Clayton sang, finishing the rhyme with malicious glee.

Shawn scowled at Mr. Clayton with his arms folded. "You know, I can't be kissing and in the baby carriage." Not that pointing out logical issues with a schoolyard taunt really worked. "Why do you care so much about Junior anyway? Is it 'cause he saw the show before?"

Mr. Clayton folded his own arms in an awkward clatter of wood-on-wood.  "I won't point out the fact that you are me and that I am you." Mr. Clayton pointed out, despite saying that he wasn't pointing it out.

"But that's right. Its Junior! Yucka! Yucka!" Mr. Clayton conceded. "He saw the Show. And more importantly, you saw that he saw the Show. And you and I both know that he's about as pliable as that lovable Green guy. You know, Gumbo?" 

"That means that since he really loves you, he probably won't be a taddle tail. That's a good thing." Mr. Clayton advised Shawn. "No one likes a taddle tail."

"So that means that we need to talk to Junior. We need to talk to him about you being a stupid Dummy. This way, I can show you the next step."

Shawn looked a little uncomfortable. “I need to tell him about all this...stuff?” He knew that this was all real, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t sound crazy to actually say. “Even if he believed me, what’s the next step?”

Mr. Clayton gave Shawn an incredulous look, fake eyebrows drawing inward  "No, no, no. Don't be silly. It's not about telling him anything. It's just about observing. Observing him. And Observing you. And then, observing yourself observing Junior." Mr. Clayton explained.

"All of this is about you. It's about showing you reality, so you won't be a slave anymore. So we can cut those strings that are holding you back from the truth. The truth being plain and simple: You are a dummy." 

"And in order to show you that, I need to show you Junior." Mr. Clayton explained.

Shawn very clearly remembered Mr. Clayton had mentioned talking to Junior, so he wasn't quite sure how he was being 'silly'. But he was getting to the point where he had to assume that even if he didn't understand something that Mr. Clayton said right now, eventually he'd get it. "Okay, so how should I do that? Should I go find him? Or is he gonna have another dream and come here?"

"Don't press it right now. But when would be the right time?" Mr. Clayton asked. He tilted his head and brought his hand up to his chin in a 'thinkers' pose. Then he shot up, wooden body stiffening and eyebrows waggling as if a light bulb had gone off in his hollow head, an idea of pure genius.

"Halloween is coming!" He announced.

Shawn thought carefully about what Mr. Clayton is saying. After a moment, though, he thinks he can follow the puppet's logic. "Are you saying I should dress up as a dummy?"

"I would love to come with you!!" Mr. Clayton affirmed, batting his eyes.

"But first. We need to go to bed. I need some rest. You've been practicing and practicing and practicing with me. Sheesh. When does a puppet get a break around here? " He announced.

“Neither of us are getting many breaks.” Still, Shawn took that to mean that the lesson was over, at least for the time being. He started to get himself ready for bed.

"Aw come on!!" Mr. Clayton complained. "Let me sleep in your bed tonight instead of my case. I wanna see what its like." Mr. Clayton said.

"I wanna go to be^eeeeeeed." The last note drawn out in a long complaint like some three year old would make.

Shawn scowled a little at Mr. Clayton. "If you're going to sleep in my bed, where will I sleep?" He certainly didn't want to share the bed with Mr. Clayton. Something about the idea of being next to Mr. Clayton while asleep and completely vulnerable made him worry.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:06, Wed 01 July 2020.

"Come on, plee^{eeeeeeeeeeease}." Mr. Clayton whined.

He grabbed a hold of Shawn's leg, pulling on it the way a toddler might do to a parent.

After everything Shawn had just experienced, he felt a certain, possibly irrational (but not really) fear that Mr. Clayton sleeping in his bed would be the start of a slippery slope where Mr. Clayton would end up living Shawn's whole life, while Shawn would be relegated to the case like the dummy he was. But he didn't want to just outright refuse him, in case it made Mr. Clayton mad. "I'll think about it, but you'd have to something really nice for me in return." Maybe if he asked for something big enough, Mr. Clayton would refuse and that would be the end of that.

"Alright! Alright!" Mr. Clayton seemed animated as if sensing the possibility of his desire to come true.

"Whatever! Whatever you want!" He urged.

Shawn folded his arms, like he was a babysitter and Mr. Clayton was asking to stay up past his bedtime. He had to make the task something that would be refused, but not so impossible that it was obvious that he wanted Mr. Clayton to fail. "I think...you have to show me how you messed around with my wishes before, and how I can do it too. We're both dummies after all, right?"

"I can show you that. I really can." Mr. Clayton agreed, nodding his head.

"The wishes from the Circus are actually from the souls that the Proprietor desired. He still desires them I think. But Bradford and I ruined the Circus. All of that precious soul powder. Up in smoke. All those silly clowns just destroyed. All of the carnival rides. You remember don't you?" He asked

Shawn was taken aback at Mr. Clayton just launching into an explanation - he'd expected it to be a total deal-breaker. That boded poorly for Shawn's night of sleep, but he couldn't just turn down valuable information like this. "Yeah, you ruined the whole Circus. And then you went into my wish and changed it so that Ralph and...and Bobby didn't live with me anymore." While he did want to know how to undo the second thing, learning about how they destroyed the Circus was probably equally important.

"It was Bradford's idea." Mr. Clayton explained, in somewhat of a defensive tone.

"He wanted to get back at everything. He wanted to get back at the Circus because he didn't think it was fair that he and Ron got taken away from that stupid, petty farm out in the middle of the country." His wooden mouth clicked as he spoke.  "and into something that he couldn't make sense of."

"Bradford was really sore about the whole thing. He felt like he was the 'whole thing.' He didn't want just to be part of that triangle. He wanted to be the entire triangle so he could get back at his face being burned." He said, pushing those wooden arms out and explaining it all.

"The entire thing. So all he had to do was let the part of him die that wanted to keep those things. And just one little step at a time, that's what he did. The first thing he did, was stop trying to make friends and start dedicating all of his time to Greater Ventriloquism. The second thing that he did was to pick something that he loved. And then letting that die. Letting it go. Letting the world consume it. If Bradford couldn't do that because he knew he couldn't muster the strength to get rid of that thing that he loved....he would destroy it."

"The first thing Bradford destroyed was his Nintendo. He loved that Nintendo. But he knew that he wouldn't stop playing it. And if he didn't stop playing it, then he would never get his revenge."

Shawn considered what he might do in the situation. He felt like he was different from Bradford, that he didn't want everything to burn. Still, he wondered what he might destroy. Maybe his fantasy books? He cared about those, though he hadn't had a chance to read them in a long time. "Then what'd he do?"

"What did he do!? What did he do!!" Mr. Clayton emphasized the 'did' to imply that Bradford had done something spectacular and wonderful or at least amazing.

"Then, Bradford found something that someone else loved...."

"And he did the same thing...."

Shawn could tell this was increasingly getting into the realm of things that he might not be willing to do. Still, if he really needed to fix things... "What'd he do after that?"

"After that he made a promise." Mr. Clayton said. "He made a promise to greater Ventriloquism that he would do whatever it was necessary to make the wish come true. And in Bradford's case, he was super serious. He actually took out one of his own teeth. I tried to tell him that I had no control over Greater Ventriloquism. Because I'm just a Dummy! He told me that he understood, but that he was so angry that he was going to keep on trying different things. No...wait. He didn't actually say 'different things.'"

"Actually, if I remember correctly--and between you and me and a hole in the wall I'm a dummy, yucka yucka!!--Bradford actually said: 'Different ways of pain.' "

"That's how he put it. He went into the garage of his house and he pulled out some pliers. The kind that you might use to....ply things? Heheehhe. Anyway, before I could say anything else Bradford had brought me to the bathroom. He had one hand up my back and one hand on the pliers. I tried to help him, but all I could do was watch and move my mouth, maybe make some sounds."

"He pushed those pliers back into the darkness of his mouth somewhere. He gagged a few times and I remember spit coming down his mouth, maybe some snotty-snots coming down his nose, hehehehe."

"Then, I heard the sound of something breaking, like the sound of an egg or something. And then the sound of a weed in a garden. You know? Kind of like a soft snapping sound like a bunch of small threads breaking."

"When Bradford pulled the pliers out of his mouth it was hard to see anything. There was so much blood! I didn't even try to pull away. How could I!!!? I'm just a Dummy and with Bradford controlling me, there was nothing I could do anyway. So I just did what Dummy can do: I laughed!! We both laughed!! It was a great time! Actually, Bradford did do some crying also. But that was funny in its own way I guess."

Shawn felt a little sick listening to that description of Bradford's self-mutilation. But at the same time, he noticed the similarities between that and willingly driving a needle through his fingers. Did that mean he was travelling along the same track as Bradford? "Did it work?"

"Did it work? Did it work!?" Mr. Clayton asked rhetorically. "Did it ever!!" his arms rattled like little wooden spoons clacking against each other in a deranged attempt at applause.

"He couldn't talk right for a week!" Mr. Clayton said, as if that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "And you know what? That means I couldn't talk right! Yucka! Yucka!"

"It wasn't like there was some kind of magic sound or noise or even color that make everything come together. It was like the next thing I knew, I was inside the wish. Bradford was inside the wish. Well, he wasn't inside of me, controlling me. Telling me what to do. And it made me feel just what I am: A total.....complete....Dummy."

"A fool"

"A moron made of wood."

"A thing trapped in a Puppet's body. To be used."

"Just...Like...A....TOOL! HAhahahaahhahahaha!"

So that was how Bradford had done it. It seemed a little outside of Shawn's reach right now, but at least now he knew. And maybe he could use that information later. "If I get good enough at Greater Ventriloquism, if I keep practicing and working hard, will I eventually be able to do that? Without breaking other people's stuff or hurting myself?"

"Oh I don't know" Mr. Clayton said thinking about that. His face broke out into a wry grin.

"I don't have the slightest idea..." Mr. Clayton mused.

Shawn frowned at Mr. Clayton, knowing what that smile had to mean. "Remember, Mr. Clayton, you're supposed to be doing something nice, and nice people don't hide things from their friends. If you want to sleep in the bed, you've got to tell me the truth."

"OK. Fine" Mr. Clayton agreed.

"I'll tell you the truth. It's about practice. It's about opening up your mind. And its about doing the things that point to. All of them. All of them. About the mind and the learning just how much of a Dummy you are. Excepting the 'Dummy-ness." Mr. Clayton mused.

Shawn kind of noticed that Mr. Clayton was being a bit vague, but he’d learned to accept that sort of answer from him. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. I just really want Ralph and Bobby back...”

"OK. Fine" Mr. Clayton agreed.

"Good. Now can we go to bed.  Together?" Mr. Clayton asked expectantly.

Shawn found himself wondering if this was how kids with younger siblings felt all the time. He sighed a little overexaggeratedly. "All right, fine. Just don't do anything weird, okay?"

Mr. Clayton climbed into bed and was completely still, eyes staring vacantly up at the ceiling.

Eventually, Shawn fell asleep.

OOC: Shawn Joins Thread

Shawn: Dream as if ....